


i knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss, i knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

by moonmotels



Category: American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, hank has no rights as per usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26204599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmotels/pseuds/moonmotels
Summary: if you don’t like taylor swift grow up and get some fucking taste mama it’s 2020
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 11
Kudos: 92





	i knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss, i knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

**Author's Note:**

> some major plot points in coven simply dont exist in the moonmotels cinematic universe so idk read at ur own risk<3

  
_And that's the thing about illicit affairs_   
_and clandestine meetings and longing stares_   
_it's born from just one single glance_

The first time they met, Cordelia felt the shift deep within her soul immediately. 

Something split open inside of her, reminiscent of a pomegranate cracked in half or a baseball bat taken to her heart. Because after that moment, she was never the same. The shell of the person she’d become was no longer a viable lifestyle. 

Misty Day changed her, she changed a lot of things.

It only took two months (five days, and seven hours if you’re counting, but she’s _not_ ), for Cordelia to realize several important things. 

_One_ \- her husband was quite possibly the worst mistake she’d ever made, right up there with not leaving home the day she turned sixteen. Amidst the affairs and raised voices, Cordelia had come to find she’s grown into some kind of complacent person, someone who avoids arguments and averts her gaze when the hour turns late and he smells like another woman.

Who would have thought, really?

(It must be that upbringing she had.)

 _Two_ \- Misty Day wasn’t an ordinary character amongst the slew of eccentric people coming in and out of her life.

And _Three_ \- Cordelia needs to cut off number two before it becomes more complicated than it should.

_Make sure nobody sees you leave,_   
_hood over your head, keep your eyes down_

“What color were your eyes before?”

Steady rain patters above their heads in a luxurious pattern, creating the soothing essence Cordelia had hoped for when imagining her dream greenhouse. Startled after the period of silence they’d taken up, she asks, “What?”

“Your eyes, what color were they?” Misty swings her legs like a child as she perches on the cool metal table, watching Cordelia mix their potion closely.

“Oh, they were brown. Nothing exciting.”

“Bet they were real pretty, just like the rest a’ ya.”

“Misty,” Cordelia blushes. She chooses to blatantly ignore the thrill that blooms in her chest at the idea of Misty thinking she’s pretty, but just like everything else she does, it sits heavy in her heart. Cordelia isn’t sure if that’s good or bad yet. Reaching a hand out beside her to grasp the pestle grinder, she’s startled once again when she feels the cool stone placed in her palm. Swallowing thickly, she looks up at Misty and manages a crooked smile. “Thanks.”

Nodding her response, Misty lets go of the pestle, but not before their fingers brush as the exchange occurs. Cordelia swallows the wail that climbs in her throat.

“What’s your husband like? I ain’t seen ‘im yet.” She seems to be on a roll with questions today, like they haven’t spent the last two months learning about each other's interests and dislikes, everything from their favorite songs to least favorite foods. 

(Misty's is spinach - Cordelia always makes sure to keep it at the far end of the table when they have dinner.)

“He’s - (a liar, a cheater, a wretched excuse for a man), busy. He’s always busy. Long hours, I guess. He’s home late and gone early.” Cordelia gauges her reaction, unsure of exactly how much Misty actually wants to know. She also selfishly wonders if that’s why Misty disappears at night and flutters in when the sun comes up, opposite of Hank.

“He’s nice? Your mama likes him?”

“Hank is wonderful,” Cordelia responds, tight lipped. At this point in her life she’s not sure why she keeps defending him, or why she lets him bed her even after numerous pathetic excuses. Maybe it’s the fear of the unknown. To admit that she barely loves him anymore would mean she’d have to face the idea of being alone again, and that’s the one thing she’ll never quite grasp. “He’s sweet, and he always remembers our anniversary.”

“And Fiona?”

“Fiona doesn’t like anything about how I live my life.”

Misty bites into a strawberry produced from the bowl of fruit she’d brought Cordelia and raises an accusatory eyebrow. “You know what they say.”

“What’s that?” Cordelia is grinding herbs as though her life depends on it. Her arm is starting to hurt, but she’s got to channel her erratic energy into something other than the feeling she gets when looking at Misty.

“Mamas always know best.”

“I don’t know how her opinion on my marriage means anything, but I guess that says it all, right?” Cordelia’s tone is clipped with anger and her body language is shockingly volatile.

Gently prying the mortar and pestle from her grasp, Misty skillfully avoids her malevolence. “Jus’ saying. You don’t talk about him a whole lot. He seems flaky.”

“How would you know? You’ve never even met him.”

“It’s all up here,” Misty playfully taps Cordelia’s forehead, hoping to entice a giggle or something. 

Cordelia just glares at her.

Raising her hands in defeat, Misty backs off to turn the record over to B-side as _Only Over You_ slows. Holding her coveted copy of Mirage up to inspect for any scratches, she barely lifts the tone arm to drop when she hears sniffling. Whipping her head around, she turns to find Cordelia hugging her arms tight around her midsection, tears rolling in streaks down rosy pink cheeks.

“Miss Cordelia, I -”, Misty hesitates between stepping forward or staying rooted where she is. Trying a combination, she walks tentatively towards her and stops when Cordelia looks up with red-rimmed eyes. “I didn’t mean to make ya upset, I know you love him. I’m just yankin’ ya chain.” 

(Would it be bad to say she looks beautiful right now?

Probably.)

“It’s not - you didn’t make me cry. I did this to myself.” The edge in her tone has lessened, giving Misty the greenlight to step into her immediate presence.

“Hey, s’okay,” she soothes, tugging Cordelia’s wrists down until she complies with sitting on the lone rug not muddy or otherwise occupied by plants. The chairs are full of planters and tables littered with soil, which she knows Cordelia would rather die than sit on and get her pants dirty.

Sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, Cordelia shakes her head back and forth slowly. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Lying to everyone. To myself.”

“I’m gonna need a lil hint here, Miss Delia. You’re a bit confusin’.”

From here, Cordelia understands she has two options, the road splits ahead in opposing directions. Closing her eyes, she inhales once and picks her first choice.

“I don’t love Hank.”

Silence envelopes the room, only the rain continuing; now a pitter falling down around the four walls. Misty’s scent is intoxicating up close, Cordelia suddenly realizes. Opening her eyes and chasing the smell of forest floors and sunflowers, she finds herself face to face with sunshine encompassed in human form.

“What?” The angel speaks. Her eyes are wide and so, _so_ blue. She can’t keep looking at Cordelia like this, there will be too many ramifications later on.

“I don’t love my husband,” she repeats. “Not like I used to, at least.”

“But you, you’re married, and I thought y’all were tryin’ to have a baby runnin’ ‘round.”

“I don’t know what the fuck I want anymore.”

Cordelia’s unlikely curse ignites something hot and sweet in the lower pit of Misty’s stomach, the kind of feeling that’s only reserved for late nights under the cloak of secrecy. Gathering her thoughts, she starts brushing her palm in a soothing pattern over Cordelia’s knee, trying to calm her. The gesture only adds fuel to the fire, making her scoot closer to the warmth. Consequences are only meant to be dealt with after the mistake, right?

Misty tucks a lock of soft, shiny hair behind Cordelia’s ear and draws a thumb over the swell of her damp cheek. ( _Bad, bad, bad._ ) “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Reaching up behind her for a rag, Cordelia blows her nose before answering, “I’m thinking I’ve never made one good choice in my life. I’m thinking I don’t deserve anything nice and that I’m a complete and utter failure.”

“Now who put those ugly thoughts in your head? Your mama? You don’t need to be listenin’ to that voice,” Misty says firmly. “None of it’s true.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m crying like an idiot over my husband who adores me.”

“You think I’ve never seen a girl cry over a boy before?”

“You’re just being nice, because -“ Cordelia slows off.

“Cause what? I like you?”

A violent wave of emotion gets stuck in her throat as Misty’s hand finally leaves her knee. If she tries hard enough, Cordelia can pretend she doesn’t miss it. “You what?”

“Yeah,” Misty stammers, realizing they’re much too close in proximity. “You’re a good friend. I like being around ya.”

“Oh.” (Of course she didn’t _mean_ -)

“I don’t like many people,” she continues, unprompted. “But Miss Delia you’re real nice n’ kind and loads of people would be lucky to be with ya. Just because your husband doesn’t treat you right don’t mean you’re broken or fucked up. I dunno a whole lot but I do know that.”

Mismatched eyes met blue again as thunder cracked overhead. Their faces are mere inches apart, and Cordelia can see every annoyingly perfect feature of Misty’s face. She wonders, briefly, who else has had the luxury of really studying this work of art. Is it normal to sense jealousy rise at the thought? This feeling is different and yet still so demanding. It almost seems wrong, to be staring at this creature so plain yet incredibly beautiful at the same time. That’s what Misty is; she supposes, plain on the surface with a world of beauty brimming beneath. You must have to know the password to really see what lies underneath. Pink lips move as Misty continues saying words, but she may as well be speaking a made up language only the two of them could understand because it sounds like nothing but music to Cordelia’s ears.

Cordelia interrupts, “What about you?”

Misty looks at her funny. “Me?”

“You’d treat me right?”

Dangerous territory has been entered. Not only has she tiptoed over the line, she’s just launched herself fully into the center of the fighting ring. All that’s left to meet her now is the lion that’ll circle and stalk; just like she wants Misty to do.

There’s no hesitation in Misty’s voice as she answers, “‘Course I would.”

The world stops. Cordelia’s vaguely aware of the rattling in her chest telling her to back down before things go too far, get too messy. But sometimes, she loves a good mess to clean up.

“And if I asked you to kiss me, do you think that you would do that too?”

“Only if you really wan’ me to.”

“I told you I don’t know what I want.”

“Then why should I do it?” Misty flashes her a mischievous smile, but Cordelia knows she’s craving this connection as much as she has been; it just took her a little while longer to get here. But it’s okay, they’re fine now. 

On the same wavelength, perhaps. Fingers crossed.

Cupping her face this time, Cordelia leans in until their lips barely graze. Static electricity ensues. She can swear Misty’s pupils dilate. “Because I think that you want to.”

“I wanna do a lot of things with you,” Misty tries to cheekily warn, but she’s cut off when Cordelia’s lips meet hers.

If Cordelia could think of anything besides how _overwhelming_ it is to kiss someone other than her husband, she might take notice of how gentle Misty becomes as their souls tenderly intertwine. Or maybe that she tastes like strawberries and artificial bananas. Or maybe, if she strained hard enough, she could hear the soft whine that accompanied as their lips ghost and nip gently at each other.

“Jesus,” Misty blinks as they part, trying to right herself with a palm on Cordelia’s shoulder blade. “You’re like a damn drug.” Her wild hair tickles Cordelia’s nose, making them both laugh when it crinkles.

Delirious, Cordelia shyly requests, “Kiss me again.”

(So she does.)

Over and over, until it feels like the rain pounding down creates a thin, secret veil around their own little world. Cordelia clutches Misty closer until their bodies are flush and there’s no space for any hesitation. Her fingers tense until indents are left behind on a warm shoulder, but she knows deep down Misty won’t mind when she’s alone later and can trace the bruises with pride. Being marked by each other is just the beginning, and what a wonderful start that is.

“We should stop,” she gasps as Misty’s teasing hand begins caressing her back dangerously close to her bra hook. 

Nipping at her jaw, Misty grins cockily as she toys with the silk trim of Cordelia’s blouse. “Say the word.”

“I can’t, you make me lose all of them.” 

Without thinking, she slides up until she’s straddling a warm thigh which _just so_ happens to lift at the contact. Pressing down, Cordelia whines breathlessly and tries to remember where they are. 

(If only she could remember her own name.) 

She rocks a little harder at the insistence of whatever pleasure seeking part of her brain is working overtime. Misty holds her close, her lips and teeth finding every part of Cordelia she’d thought to be untouchable before.

A flash with the panic of sudden realization shoots through her veins. “I’m married,” she says out loud, mostly to herself. Like she’d forgotten.

“Yeah,” Misty says slowly, “and you’re also wet.” They both look down at where they’re indecently attached, but Cordelia makes no move to unmount.

Really and truly, she tries to fathom the idea of getting up and profusely apologizing, saying she’s made a huge mistake. But a part of her - just the smallest, most miniscule part, doesn’t want to. She’s spent so long doing all the things that she should; being the perfect wife and daughter, isn’t it time to do something she shouldn’t? Cordelia has earned that, has earned a day to be reckless and stupid. So what if it’s at the expense of her marriage? It was over the day it started.

Just as she swings a leg over to climb fully into Misty’s lap and really make a mistake, the door to the greenhouse slams open and the warning signals in her mind start firing off. Tripping over Misty’s thigh as she rushes to stand, Cordelia swipes her lips free of Misty’s taste and surveys their untimely interruption. 

“Getting it on with all your plants? Bold, but not that unexpected,” Madison quips, loving the way Misty pops up behind Cordelia reminiscent of a teenager getting caught.

“I was helping her find an earring,” Cordelia says slowly. “Did you need something?”

“Zoe sent me in here because she needs help with an incantation. Shall I tell her you’re otherwise occupied..finding earrings?”

“Nope, I’m all finished.”

Taking that to heart, Madison flings the door back open with a flick of her finger and flits out into the yard, waiting briefly at the entrance for Cordelia to follow. With her head down and cheeks painted with obvious embarrassment, she walks on unsteady feet towards the door.

Misty quickly reaches out to snatch her wrist, but Cordelia brushes her off. “Not now,” she enunciates, but her eyes portray a thousand different emotions. 

Getting lost in translation, Misty nods and reverts back to her inherent state of loneliness. 

_Take the road less traveled by,_   
_tell yourself you can always stop_   
_what started in beautiful rooms_

' _Not now_ ' apparently meant over two & a half weeks.

Cordelia tells herself she’s busy. Misty tells herself she made a mistake.

Both dread the upcoming interaction. 

It’s barely sunrise when Misty pads barefoot through the backdoor carrying a basket of picked apples and a satchel of wildflowers she thought would look nice on the dining room table. Right there, smack in the middle of the kitchen, is Cordelia sipping her morning drink. It’s extremely unfair, she thinks, how radiant and peaceful she looks sitting in the soft glow. Her fingers curl around the condensation of her clay mug, long and sturdy looking. Misty has to avert her gaze before truly unfiltered thoughts start seeping through.

“Hi,” she shifts on two feet, unsure of how to proceed. They haven’t been in the same room, let alone the same vicinity since that day.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Cordelia blurts.

“S’okay, it’s your house. You’re free to roam the halls naked if y’want.”

Chuckling mostly to herself, Cordelia lifts her mug and tests the too-hot tea. “I suppose that’s true.”

Misty lifts the basket in some sort of peace offering, hoping the swell of nervousness in her chest dissipates. “I brought apples.”

“From the tree out back?”

“Yeah, s’that okay?”

“Of course,” Cordelia gestures her over, “sit, let’s have one.”

Setting the basket down on the kitchen island between them, Misty plops herself down. Before she can reach into the pile and retrieve the fruit, Cordelia is handing her an apple. The same one she’d just taken a large bite from.

The intimacy of sharing food is not lost on Misty. Something not that unpleasant stirs in her heart.

Biting into it a bit too forcefully, she sits quietly, unsure of how to start speaking. Words tend to get lost when she’s around Cordelia, almost like it’s too risky to open her mouth in fear of words she shouldn’t speak come tumbling out.

“You’re settling in okay? Here, I mean? I know it’s not as homey as your shack.” Cordelia takes the apple back and continues biting from where Misty left off. She must know that Misty officially moved her mere belongings into the spare room just down the hallway to fully begin studying the seven wonders. It’s thrilling, knowing she’s kept tabs.

“Suppose I am. Still gettin’ used to the hum of air conditioners n’ not cicadas.”

“You should play nature noises on Youtube at night.”

“You..tube?”

“I’ll help you set it up."

“Sure would love to figure that one out.”

“So can we talk about it?” Cordelia changes the subject abruptly, like she’s scared she’ll lose the confidence later on.

Misty continues chomping into the apple until the core is exposed and juice dribbles down her chin in a thin line. Cordelia wishes so badly to lick it up. “Guess so.”

“I don’t actually know what to say.”

“You were upset, we kissed, and it’s over. Nothin’ much to say. If you regret it, m’sorry, we can move on and be friends again.” 

(Friends. What a funny, _terribly_ shallow word.)

“Misty, we -” Cordelia furrows her brow, trying to come up with the correct string of words here. “I don’t regret it. I thought I might, but I don’t.”

“Hank’s still comin’ round at night. I’m not as dumb as everyone thinks, Miss Cordelia.”

Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, Cordelia desperately panders to the side of her that says what she feels and doesn’t care what happens afterwards. “What my husband and I do has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

Misty stares blankly at her, giving no sign she’s got any type of comment.

She tries again, “I’m working on - a plan, of some sorts.”

“A plan?”

“On how to divorce him quietly without shaking up the rest of my life.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it because of me? Cause I don’t - I don’t wanna be the reason you leave him. Don't do that.”

Cordelia winces. “Do you want the truth?”

“God’s honest and nothing but,” Misty challenges.

She carefully folds her hand over Misty’s and squeezes once, a silent symbol that she’s gathering her wits. “I’m divorcing him because it should have been over the day it started, but I won’t lie to you. I’m tired of lying to everyone, including myself. I’ve come to realize, I think, that I have feelings for you stronger than I probably should.”

“You-”

Raising her fingers in a plea, Cordelia asks, “Let me finish.”

With those lips and that face, she could ask for Misty’s beating heart and she’d rip it right out of her chest.

“Thanks,” she says shyly. “The last thing on Earth I want is to overwhelm you. I’m not asking for you to be with me. That’s not my intention, and I would be fine being friends. Just friends. We don’t even have to pretend it happened.” Nodding with finality, she sits up straight and clasps her hands together. She looks almost proud of herself, like holding that in had become this huge burden.

“Do you wanna know what I think?”

“Please.”

“I think you’re awful fuckin’ dumb.”

Cordelia retracts backwards as if Misty had reached across the table and smacked her. “Pardon me?”

“It’d be real stupid to wanna be with me,” Misty somewhat backtracks, “I’m nothin’ special. If you go through with this and get divorced, I think you should do that n’ then find someone actually worth your time.”

“Is that really what you believe? That you’re not worth my time?” Cordelia looks at her as if she’s grown two extra heads.

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely batshit insane if you think that.”

Now Misty is the one to stare at her incredulously, the silence between them building slow and steady like a brick wall.

“Sorry I brought the topic up, I guess. I just wanted to update you." Her ability to handle this conversation has run dry several minutes ago, and now she just wishes for the skill to erase the memory of this barely begun day.

“Thanks,” Misty responds sarcastically.

“How did we - why are we coming at each other like this?” Cordelia asks, defeated. It’s one thing to admit the things that lay heavy on her chest, another to leave this conversation open ended. For all the scenarios she’s carefully crafted about this exchange, this was not one of them.

“I don’t know,” Misty admits, “I’m super antsy.”

“I’m sorry. That was too much information,” Cordelia lowers her head and begins massaging her temples in aggravation.

“No, I feel like I gotta take you away from here, whisk you up like a fairy tale or some dumb shit. It’s messy.”

“Messy?”

“You’re too good for all a’ this,” Misty gestures broadly to the house, all its occupants and the stress and drama that follow.

Cordelia, for the first time in a long time, actually smiles. “You want to take me away from here? That’s romantic.”

“You could be the damsel in distress.” Misty cracks her own smile. 

“Well I certainly have the distress part down.”

Dancing her fingers along the inside of Cordelia’s wrist, she asks, “You’re really doing this? Leaving him?”

“His bags are in the closet ready to go.”

“You amaze me, Miss Cordelia.”

“Yeah?”

Misty coyly drapes her shawl so it hangs off an exposed shoulder, enjoying the thrill she receives as Cordelia eyes the bare skin with hunger in her look. 

“Yeah.”

_Take the words for what they are,_   
_a dwindling, mercurial high_   
_A drug that only worked_   
_the first few hundred times_

“Your shit’s in a box in the closet. Get it, and then get out.”

Hank looks at her as if she’s just asked him to walk barefoot across scorched earth, but they both know her tone is final with no room for budge.

“So that’s it? You’re throwing away our life together for what? Because of your mother? News flash, baby, you’re turning out to be just like her. Enjoy it. That old bird is a fucking joke.” Scoffing at her and then giving Misty a disdainful look, Hank retreats like an animal with a bruised ego; tail between his legs.

The stuffy air seems to clear up without Hank’s overwhelming stench of lies and deceit. Misty watches as Cordelia visibly relaxes. “Hey,” she touches her gently on the arm, “you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia blinks heavily as if in a daze. “I’m fine.”

“Seems a lil’ iffy to me.”

“Have you ever left the first man you ever loved?”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve ever loved one.”

Cordelia barks out a sharp laugh, seemingly believing that she’s finally alone in the presence of an ethereal being. It almost feels like a cosmic joke that she’d been sent someone so useless and demeaning only to find Misty later on. A gem amongst the rubble of ashes that had become her life. That’s the only thing tripping Cordelia up, because how could she tell Misty that her mere existence has changed the course of her life this swiftly? Some kind of mercurial magic that is. 

Misty continues, “Do you wanna talk about it? It might not be the best idea, but I’m all you’ve got right now n’ I’ve been told I’m a great listener.”

Cordelia could kiss her simply for being here. “I think I’m okay.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I can pretend like that wasn't the hottest shit I've ever seen and we can chit chat about burning his clothes in the driveway.”

Her mouth twitching into a grin, Cordelia takes the mud from Misty and chastises, “We have things to make.”

“I’m just saying, I got gators that’ll love the taste of Ha-”

Catching her off guard, Cordelia presses a gentle kiss to Misty’s temple. It’s hard to resist. She has to stand on her tiptoes, and it would almost be embarrassing if Misty didn’t immediately capture her chin and angle it up to do it properly.

Something about being in Misty’s arms seems incredibly familiar, as if Cordelia has known this feeling for a million years now. It’s safe and warm, both intoxicating and insanely sobering. If Cordelia has finally accepted her descent into insanity, she knows this outcome will be a maddening and astonishingly beautiful surrender. Maybe she’s just broken free of the bubble she’d lived in her entire life, the one meant to protect; but instead had led her astray. With Misty’s hand in hers, perhaps the right path has been chosen.

“I don’t wanna stop kissing you, ever.” Misty whispers it as a plea, almost. Like she’s daring Cordelia to say something that could make them part.

Cordelia closes her eyes, just for a moment. Just long enough to gather her thoughts and make a rational, well contemplated decision. It’s easy to imagine stepping gracefully away from Misty and continuing their day's work, but then she’s looking into her eyes again and all bets are thrown out.

“I’m scared,” she says simply, but allows herself to be tugged close anyway.

“I know.”

“It’s so soon,” Cordelia trails off.

“I know,” she repeats, “Do you want me to leave y’alone?”

“No,” Filling with dread, she clutches desperately at Misty’s waist. “Don’t leave me. Not now.”

( _I feel like I just got you_.)

“Okay, sugar,” Misty’s lips curl upwards, and she looks like a dream come true. “I won’t.”

“I’m tired,” Cordelia says abruptly, “Exhausted, I mean. Can we leave the incantations for later? You’ve already learned so much.”

“I had a good teacher. Do you want me to bring you some snacks in bed?” They’d be mostly for Misty and they both know that.

“You’d do that?”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’d do a lot for you Miss Cordelia. We make a great team, right?”

Cordelia’s only response is a thousand fireworks going off in the space of her heart, previously reserved for other, less deserving people.

  
A soft knock on the door has her heart leaping from her chest as if begging to be released from its confines after all these years. “Come in.”

“Hi,” Misty says shyly, holding up a tray piled with fruit and bagels and other miscellaneous food items God only knows where they came from.

“Sit, please.”

Misty eyes the empty space in the large bed next to Cordelia, suddenly looking less than thrilled about getting into it with her. “Is that his side?”

Cordelia looks down at the crumpled sheets and expects to feel something, but the only thing she can bring herself to do is hope, so desperately, that new memories will be made here. Looking back at Misty, she climbs over to the empty space and settles down. “Not anymore. I always liked this side anyway. It’s away from the drafty window,” she attempts to joke. Having Misty alone in her room feels incredibly personal, like it’s two steps away from taking a leap she’ll never recover from.

“Well gosh, I might need ya to keep me warm then,” Misty sits cross legged on her now-proclaimed side. 

“I think I can manage that.”

Misty’s only response is to batter her eyelids seductively in an attempt to make her laugh.

(It works.)

Sharing their meal again; too intimately, the quiet afternoon slowly turns into dusk. Golden twilight filters leisurely through sheer curtains, draping the room in an intimate hue. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Cordelia whispers as Misty presses an almond past her lips. Selfishly, she grabs the hand before it can retract and kisses her fingers. Swallowing, she asks, “Did you know that?”

“My mama always told me I should watch out for the pretty boys in life, but she shoulda warned me about the pretty women with funny lookin’ eyes.”

Cordelia laughs so hard it makes her stomach hurt after a moment. “You’re not funny,” she says, but her smile betrays her greatly.

“You’re still the sweetest lookin’ thing I ever saw,” Misty says suddenly, and her tone fills with adoration.

It catches Cordelia off guard. “What?”

“Makes me feel all weird inside when I’m around ya, like I’m made of jello or somethin’.”

“That’s - Misty, that’s very nice of you to say. Thank you.”

Nonchalantly raising a shoulder, she replies, “Figured I should tell you that before all this seven wonders nonsense.”

“I have no doubt you’ll pass with flying colors.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything, please.” 

( _Anything, everything_.)

“I don’t wanna be the Supreme. I think it should be you.” 

Taken aback, Cordelia scours her brain for a response to that. “But you - you’re incredibly powerful. You’d make a great leader.”

“Nah, I really just want some peace and quiet.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“We should run away together.”

“Right now?”

“Why not,” Misty grins. “Neither of us belong here.”

Cordelia really and truly cannot think of one good reason to say no to her. “You’re right,” she agrees, “but I have responsibilities.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“I adore your brazen sense of ideology, but trust me, I would if I could.”

“That’s good enough for now." Taking the tray and setting it on the floor beside them, she guides Cordelia by the hip beneath the sheets until they lie face to face. She tucks her cold toes between two warm calves and giggles when it makes Cordelia shiver.

It’s dark now, but the pale shadows help illuminate the curves of Misty’s face; her hair that still manages to take up space on Cordelia’s pillow. “Hi,” she says again as if it’s their first time meeting.

“Hi,” Cordelia repeats. Her eyes wander and explore Misty up close, trying to soak up every line and blemish as if expecting never to see it again. Panic fills her nerve endings, giving cause to reckless ideas and senseless wishes. If Misty really doesn’t pass the seven wonders, Cordelia isn’t sure she’ll be okay after that.

There is one thing she could do, to feel better about the thought.

Occasionally, she makes heedless decisions that barely skim the surface of danger. They usually only mess up her life in miniscule ways, rarely enough to cause irreparable damage.

But this one - this one is different.

Sitting up on her side, Cordelia curls her fingers underneath the hem of the shirt she’d pulled on while waiting for Misty to bring her food. Slowly, methodically, she lifts it over her head until it’s off and thrown behind them on the floor. Watching Misty’s pupils blow wide, she questions simply, “Will you touch me?”

Tracing a delicate finger up over Cordelia’s ribcage and tapping it once, twice on the space above her heart, Misty parts her lips and asks, “Are you sure?”

Cordelia nods. There’s no room for backtracking. Not that she’d want to, not after Misty sits up and shucks her own dress off.

Staring at Misty’s naked chest, Cordelia has to be guided up and into her lap before she can even begin to blink away the stars in her eyes. Straddling two tone thighs, she takes Misty’s face between palms and sighs as if she’s been struggling her entire life and this is her prized possession. Maybe she is.

“Is this okay?”

Ghosting her warm mouth over the swell of Cordelia’s cheek, she hums, “You tell me.”

“I’m fine,” she gasps and thrusts her hips forward as Misty’s fingers start wandering. “It’s okay.”

“Take your pants off then.”

Half standing, half crouching, Cordelia gets rid of the offending object and finds herself back in Misty’s lap. Her legs shake and goosebumps rise on her skin as Misty begins holding her in ways she could never have fathomed. Her fingertips leave behind little sparks of energy as they explore; tugging the cup of her bra down, trailing over her waist, slipping inside panties but never fully committing. 

“Misty, please,” she finally begs. “Please.”

Misty kisses her neck, leaving behind a print she knows Cordelia will have to scrub off later all while thinking of her. Her fingers dance and wander, tempt and tease. Pressing lightly against damp fabric, Misty murmurs, “You’re so wet. Does he make you like this?” Cordelia’s far from bothered by the inquiry, because she knows Misty is making sure that it’ll be her and only her from now on. That she’s serious about leaving Hank and committing to this fucked up, untimely situation.

Cordelia squeezes her eyes shut and clenches her teeth, only relaxing when warm lips find her again. It’s less soft this time, more demanding now. “He doesn’t make me feel anything you do.” It’s hard to focus with Misty’s mouth and hands all over her. ”He doesn’t fuck me as good as I know you can.”

Chuckling lowly, Misty unhooks her bra and watches as the straps fall over freckled shoulders. When Cordelia’s bare chest is revealed, it takes her a minute to collect her thoughts. Leaning in, she tentatively traces her tongue over a nipple and revels in the earth shattering sound Cordelia makes above her. 

Splaying a gentle palm to her lower back, Misty holds her steady as she skims beneath the elastic waistband holding her back from what she wants most.

Cordelia lifts her chin to press a wobbly peck on her lips. “Please,” she breathes, “I need it. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

Without skipping a beat, Misty presses down on her clit and swirls it just enough to satiate. 

“ _God_ ,” she groans, “fuck.”

“It’s hot hearing you curse,” Misty drawls, lining her fingers up and waiting for the go ahead.

Cordelia sinks down, seemingly deranged with her movements. “I sound even hotter when I come.”

“Jesus,” Misty watches on bated breath as Cordelia starts riding her fingers, her hips and thighs moving more frenzied than before. Guiding her into a slow roll, she curls her fingers just right and enjoys the low moan that accompanies. 

Fluttering her eyes shut in exquisite nirvana, Cordelia begins the process of unraveling at the seams. It’s disarming, to be at Misty’s mercy like this, but that’s the fun part of it. Misty gets to really see the cracks beneath her flawless surfaces. And if she stays after seeing the mess that lies below, well, what a miracle that could be.

Soft strokes turn into more urgent thrusts, Misty’s voice low and coy in her ear telling her how beautiful she is, how wet she feels, all these filthy; unfathomable praises. Every time she fully enters Cordelia, another sound sweeter than the last follows. “Are you going to come for me?” she asks gently.

“Oh,” Cordelia drops her forehead on Misty’s sturdy shoulder and grinds down impossibly harder, “yes, please.”

Her rhythm only falters once when a thumb begins rubbing unidentifiable patterns around her clit, but she regains stability enough to take in another finger. The faster she chases her high, the harder Misty curls her fingers. Chanting broken fragments of Misty’s name, Cordelia takes in one last startlingly raw gasp and then comes loudly and theatrically. 

It’s mesmerizing.

Utter and total ecstasy.

She releases a throaty sigh, remnants from losing her breath as she came all over Misty’s hand. It’s silent for a short period, only the far off sounds of nature and traffic filtering through the open window. Misty caresses her back, tethering her to this bed in lieu of floating away through time and space.

“Thank you,” she says breathlessly, blindly searching for Misty’s lips as her eyes still remain shut trying to bask in the glow for as long as possible.

“I should be the one thankin’ you,” She helps Cordelia unmount her as gracefully as possible, then lies them down until face to face again. Selfish with her intentions and a little smug about it, she pulls Cordelia tight into her arms. Brushing their noses together, she checks, “Are y’alright?”

(Delirious, maybe. Still trembling, definitely. Alright? More than she could have ever possibly imagined.)

Her simple answer, “Yes.”

Shifting so that her head is propped up on an elbow, Cordelia traces Misty’s lower lip with a careful finger. “I want to make you feel good,” she says tenderly. 

“You don’t have to.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Misty raises an eyebrow and quirks her mouth into a sinfully beautiful smile. “I’m all yours.”

Cordelia opens her mouth to say _don’t tell me that, then I’ll really be in too deep_ but all she can manage is an embarrassed, “It’s been a while, since I -”

“Stay up here, with me.”

“That’s not enough,” Cordelia considers for a moment, then sneaks a hand up between Misty’s legs. “I’d like to taste you.”

As the jolt of arousal skyrockets through her system, Misty studies her for a moment, at a complete loss of words. “Okay,” she finally relents, “can’t deny ya that.”

Flipping the sheets off them, Cordelia covers Misty’s body with her own to ward off the chill in the air. Hoisting herself up, she leisurely kisses down the soft skin trembling and shaking beneath her. When she gets to Misty’s chest, she peppers a dozen kisses as she sees fit, delighting in the sounds it creates. Deftly, she gets rid of her underwear and tosses it where they’ll have to search later. 

“You make me so nervous,” Misty says quietly. When Cordelia looks up, her eyes are glossy and expression soft hearted. 

“Imagine how I feel,” Cordelia ducks her head, bashful. “I’m not used to being this intimate. It feels like we’re creating something incredibly personal.”

“Like it’s a whole new world.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Cordelia’s chest clenches at the idea of making this kind of passionate magic with Misty. There’s no way she’s just been given this gift free of charge with no strings attached. Deciding, greedily, to accept it anyway, she forcefully parts Misty’s legs and situates herself between them.

“May I?” She nips at the pliant skin that makes Misty’s eyes roll back.

“Unless you wanna watch while I do it myself.”

Pondering that idea for approximately two seconds, she shakes her head. “No, that can be later.”

Misty wiggles her hips. “I’m all yours.”

(The rest of her cocky words fall to the back of her throat as Cordelia takes one long, slick taste up her.)

Entire body aching with need, she writhes and cries when the teasing becomes unbridled wave after wave of pleasure. Cordelia’s nose bumps deliciously on her clit as a skilled tongue slides over her wet folds, making her toes curl. 

Arching off the bed, Misty blindly reaches a hand down for some type of stability. Grasping Cordelia’s fist clenched in the bedsheet, she tethers herself to it and begins the full descent into blissful euphoria. Cordelia’s eating her out as if begging for mercy at the foot of a God, her mouth bringing Misty close to the edge and then pulling back in a dizzying sensation.

Pressing a cool cheek to the inside of a warm thigh, Cordelia starts to murmur a string of incoherent words and praises, each one more dirty than the last. Misty tries to focus, really, but it’s hard when the phrases fill her ears and make the throb between her legs impossibly double in pleasure. 

“You taste so good,” Cordelia is saying, but Misty can only hear the pulse of her own heartbeat in her ears. Everything feels warm and luxurious, like pools of liquid gold. There’s a unique feeling stirring deep in her gut, one that sets every nerve ending on fire. She’s gasping and shaking, but Cordelia holds her down and open; keeping a steady pressure on her clit.

Giving no warning, she grinds her hips up one last time into Cordelia’s face with a loud cry. Misty comes on a broken sigh, limbs violently trembling and sizzling with the pleasure of release. She bucks her lower half uncontrollably as Cordelia keeps sucking at her clit until physically having to shove her away. 

“S’too much,” she inhales raggedly, tugging Cordelia up by the upper arm. “C’mere.”

When Cordelia slips back into her arms and kisses her; mostly lips and no teeth, Misty tastes herself and nearly bursts at the seams. 

“Are you alright?”

Misty nods, still unable to form a word to save her life.

The severity of their actions finally seeps into their psyche, and both come to the silent conclusion that any regrets will be dealt with in the morning. For now, they have tonight. They have the darkness to envelope their sins and keep them covered until morning light brings it back to the surface.

Every inch of Cordelia’s skin that Misty touches makes her hand stand on its ends. The blood in her veins begins thrumming, intensifying with every erratic beat of her heart. Being here, like this, is making her body ascend to places she didn’t know existed. Misty must be taking her to the place beyond Heaven’s gates where she belongs. That’s the only conclusion.

“Will you stay here, with me?”

( _Hold me please, forever,_ she wants to say.)

“Yeah,” Misty says drowsily, “I think I will.” Being in Cordelia’s arms feels like coming to salvation - she’ll never not want to stay.

  
Misty’s head is spinning when she wakes up hours later, 2:03am by the looks of it. Groggy, she strains for the disruptive noise that woke her. Loud pounding on the bedroom door fully pulls her awake, and she gently shakes Cordelia out of her own deep sleep.

“Delia, get up.”

“What?” She squints the sleep from her eyes, and Misty really resists the urge to kiss her because of how adorable it is.

“Someone’s at your-” Another panic-stricken bang and then Zoe’s frantic voice rising above the rest.

“Cordelia, _please_ , get up.”

“Stay here,” Cordelia requests, but Misty knows it’s much more of a demand.

Shifting into her leader role, she shucks a robe on and shuffles to the door, opening it only a sliver. Misty perks up, trying to catch the conversation but it’s too quiet from where she is.

A sharp, monumental choking noise falls from Cordelia’s mouth and her hand grips the doorframe so hard Misty is afraid it’ll crack.

Her voice is clearer now, as she asks, “Are you sure?”

Zoe’s meek, “Yes,” follows.

“Make sure my mother knows,” Cordelia attempts to close the door when Zoe wonders if she’s okay. “I’m fine, you can go.”

Shutting the outside world away, she falls back against the wooden frame and releases a shaky breath as if forgetting she has company. 

“What happened?”

Cordelia looks up at her, a million different emotions flashing in that gaze. It’s scaring Misty, how deeply unsettled she looks.

“Hank’s dead.”

(Just like that.)

  
_don’t call me “baby”_   
_look at this idiotic fool that you made me_   
_You taught me a secret language_

_I can’t speak with anyone else_

_the day of_

  
“There’s still time, y’know. My offer stands.”

Cordelia hums her inquiry from where her head lies in Misty’s lap, too content to even think of moving. They’re on the swing out back, quiet rain falling around the porch sheltering them from the storm.

“The seven wonders start in an hour, if you pack faster than a lightenin’ bolt we could be outta here and halfway to my shack by the time they even come lookin’ for us.”

It’s been nearly a month _since_ -

Cordelia’s fine, she supposed. Being a widow wasn’t exactly in her list of plans, but it saves her from needing a divorce lawyer, right? Misty has both figuratively and literally held her hand through most of the grieving process; has let her break plates in anger and sob until it’s three am and she’s too distraught to sleep.

“You’ve practiced for this. I know in my heart that you’ll succeed.”

But - running away with Misty does seem like a dream. The kind of mythical, unrealistic fantasy you keep to yourself your entire life because there’s no way it could ever be real. 

“Guess it would be pretty neat to run this place,” Misty muses. “Do you think I could keep pets out back?”

“If you’re the Supreme I’m sure whatever you say goes,” Cordelia chuckles, then stops, “Wait, what kind of pets?”

Misty pokes her soft belly and grins, “Guess we’ll have to find out.”

“No gators,” she warns.

“Do the nice ones count?”

“Misty,” Cordelia groans, but she can’t help from belly laughing. Burrowing her face impossibly closer to warmth, she’s pleased to feel Misty’s strong arm wrap around her midsection. They lie like that, words not needed as they take in the last hour of freedom they’ve been granted.

Several minutes go by, and then, “What if I don’t make it?” Misty says quietly.

“You will. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“But what if I don’t?”

“I will come looking for you, no matter where it is. Know that.”

Misty sticks her pinky finger out and pleads with those bright blue eyes. “You promise?”

Cordelia takes her pinky and swears on everything she’s ever believed in.

“Promise.”

(And in that promise was an unspoken I love you.)

  
_And you know damn well_   
_for you, I would ruin myself_   
_a million little times_   
  


**Author's Note:**

> ty to my bb [nicole](https://twitter.com/luIuspiesong) for the idea


End file.
